


The Ache of Wanting Intimacy

by fairdeath



Series: The Ache Of Want [2]
Category: Game Grumps, Youtube RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Blow Jobs, Body Woship, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dating, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, M/M, Naked Cuddling, Oral Sex, Polyamorous Character, Polyamorous relationship, Polyamory, Polygrumps, Post-Coital Cuddling, Praise Kink, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2015-12-03
Packaged: 2018-05-04 18:04:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5343425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairdeath/pseuds/fairdeath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They say the first hurdle is the worst. They were wrong. It’s when the hurdles get more intimidating that you reach the worst ones. They’re so much more extreme than the first ones, and; therefore, more daunting and anxiety provoking. Failing at these hurdles is more painful than failing at the first.</p><p>That’s why Mark is so nervous, and yet more desperate than he’s ever been to show his adoration for Dan and Arin through learning every inch of their bodies, tasting their skin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ache of Wanting Intimacy

**Author's Note:**

> 'Tis the season of giving! And because of this, Mark is giving his first blowjob. I'm so proud of him. They grow up so fast. 
> 
> If you want to commission me you can contact me at satanssugarbaby@sin.com

They say the first hurdle is the worst. They were wrong. The first hurdle is terrifying. The first hurdle is a huge step to take, an extreme amount of effort, and no one knows what’s going to happen afterwards. But you make it. You make the first jump and all the ones as scary as that seem less terrifying, then.

It’s when the hurdles get more intimidating that you reach the worst ones. They’re so much more extreme than the first ones, and; therefore, more daunting and anxiety provoking. Failing at these hurdles is more painful than failing at the first.

That’s why Mark is so nervous, and yet more desperate than he’s ever been to show his adoration for Dan and Arin through learning every inch of their bodies, tasting their skin.

They’ve been together for long enough that he’s comfortable enough with them to walk into the recording space when he knows they’re between episodes, sit between the two of them and lean on one’s shoulder while he holds the other’s hand. Sometimes, and they’d never let this get out to anyone other than the rest of the Grumps, he’ll sit silently between the two and let himself recharge while they record. Dan’s laughter will caress his ears like a lullaby, and Arin’s rage and bad jokes fall on him like a warm blanket in February. One the third occasion this happened, Mark was particularly stressed and behind on work, but had pushed himself past the point of being useful by continuing to work, so he’d slumped across the Grump Space, headache and nausea in tow, before crawling over the armrest of the couch and crawling into Arin’s lap, who’d been positioned between Dan’s legs, recording A Link Between Worlds. Head in Arin’s lap, curled up like a cat, Mark had drifted into a dreamless sleep, and woke up hours later, sun dipped below the horizon and a hand drifting through his untamed hair, head still pillowed in Arin’s lap, Dan softly humming an unfamiliar song, and the room dark, all recording equipment long turned off.

Mark has learned a lot about himself since being to date Arin and Dan. He’s learned that although he doesn’t like letting other people pay for his meals, he _adores_ the small, quiet smile it puts on Dan’s face when he lets him. Mark’s found that despite the fact that late night walks with his dates used to drag on and become a chore, with Dan and Arin, he’s never enjoyed being in the fresh air more. He’s realized that the nervous butterflies he dreaded as a teenager are actually a really nice feeling – the feeling of being nervous to kiss someone and then having them _kiss you back_ when you finally gather the courage is a bliss near unknown to him, but he’s learning to partake in it more often. He’s learned that he loves his hair being played with. He’s learned that he likes having two people he can express all his love to, because for so long he’s had so much love in him and not enough people to shower with it.

But because of everything he’s learned about himself, he’s never been happier than he has been after jumping the terrifying hurdle, and that’s why he’s determined to jump the next one.

He waits until Matt and Ryan are out one night, presumably for the rest of the night. Since he’s moved out of his mom’s home, he’s always tended to keep his living spaces clean. Which is a terrible thing he’s done to himself, because he wants to distract himself after asking Arin and Dan over to marathon Rick and Morty, which isn’t a _lie_ , it just isn’t the main goal of the night, but there’s nothing to do except de-clutter the cutlery and wring his hands and exhaust his wrists.

When the two arrive, Mark greets them with forced vigour. It’s not that he isn’t ecstatic to see them, but his nerves are making him jittery, and he prays Dan can’t see the way he shakes or that Arin can’t feel his heart hammering away at his ribcage. He beckons them in and leads them to his room, his brain forcing him to focus on the speck of dust on his glasses which is next to a smudge, presumably from when he was anxiously was running his hands through his hair, which probably now looks like a grease bucket.

Arin notices his out-of-character shakes. He breathes out a short laugh before wrapping his arms around Mark’s waist from behind, interlocking his fingers against the softness on his stomach.

“Taking us to bed, eh, Mark?” Arin murmurs, smirk evident in his voice, lips brushing his ear. He noses at Mark’s reddening cheek, pressing a grin laden kiss to the hollow beneath his cheekbone.

Mark pushes a laugh from his chest, fingers laying across Arin’s own. He’s not wrong, but Mark isn’t going to tell him that. He turns his head to face the bearded man and lifts the hand closest to him up to hold Arin’s jaw. He prompts him closer, pressing his lips to Arin’s own, eyes closing softly. Arin’s contentment and charisma bleeds into Mark through the passion of the kiss, overriding some of the worry Mark feels.

“You wish, Hanson,” Mark breathes once he pulls away, forehead resting against Arin’s own. He grins cockily as he intertwines his hand with Arin’s own and pulls him over to the bed, Dan already sunken between the pillows the line the head of the bed.

Mark crawls onto the bed from the side and straddles Dan’s hips. Dan’s hands immediately come to Mark’s hips and hold him firmly. His warm smile eases the tension in Mark’s shoulders even more with just the affection in his eyes as Arin gets comfortable besides them.

“Hi,” Mark breathes, smile soft and cheeks flushed. Dan exhales soft laughter before bringing his hands to Mark’s jaw, cupping the sharp angles in his smooth hands. He sits up and encloses his lips over Mark’s own, adoration filling Mark’s mind as Dan expresses his feelings through affection. Dan pulls away, grin wide and toothy as he drops his hands from Mark’s jaw.

Mark slips from Dan’s lap and resituates himself on the edge of the bed. His shoulders quickly push back into their rigid hold as he remembers why he invited them here, his pulse pounding in his ears as he holds the remote in a vice-like grip and begins the playlist. Mark startles as Dan lifts a hand and runs it through his head of hair with almost as much personality as the three of them combined, and when Arin notices the stiffness from across the bed, he bumps his elbow into Dan’s ribs softly and pokes a finger in Mark’s direction.

As Mark’s discomfort comes to Dan’s attention, he throws the closest arm around Mark’s shoulders and pulls the younger into his side, pressing a feather light kiss to where Mark’s sunset peach hair meets with his short, dark roots. It breathes warmth into his soul from the tips of his hair to the centre of his broad chest and sits heavy there. Calmness and contentment covers Mark like a warm blanket, like the feeling of the spring sun after a long winter.

It takes a few episodes before he’s talked himself out of giving up. For an hour and a half, Dan’s arm holds him close while Mark’s eyes are glued to his television, unseeing of what his eyes are showing him.  His bottom lip is close to cherry red from how repetitively his teeth tug on the soft flesh there, but he’s determined now. He’s going to go through with taking both of the gorgeous men next to him apart at the seams, making them blubber and whine Mark’s name, kiss them senseless.

That’s why when he recognises the end credit theme, he breathes out the last of his anxiety and trepidation before throwing one leg over Dan’s thighs and resituating himself on the older man’s lap.

“I’m not really into this marathon anymore,” Mark sighs with faux absent mindedness. He looks around his room for a moment before resting his eyes on Arin’s confused stare. “But I am really into you guys,” and prays there’s a soft landing at the bottom of the cliff he’s just thrown himself off of.

“Oh my God,” Dan laughs, shocked by Mark’s sudden moves in comparison to his slow and hesitant ones all night prior. Mark smiles in reply before grasping the fabric of Dan’s well-worn shirt in his fist. He bites his lip as he leans close to Dan’s own before swallowing away the fear of rejection.

“I want you,” he murmurs, breath ghosting over Dan’s mouth, cheeks flush, “so badly.” He hears Dan’s slight inhale of surprise, watches Arin’s chest hitch with the quick breath he takes, and takes the plunge.

Mark loves kissing Dan. It’s one of his favourite past times, he’s found. Dan kisses with his entire body. He can’t _not_ touch the person he’s kissing, and it drives Mark crazy. The moment their lips connect, a moan comes from deep in Dan’s chest at the same time his hands fly up to cup Mark’s jaw in his hands, thumbs brushing the highpoints of his cheek bones. His mouth is always soft and never too forceful, he takes his time in turning Mark to putty. His tongue teases his bottom lip, licks the lightest of strokes along the thickest part of it, as he holds Mark captive in a head spinning display of affection. He licks up into Mark’s mouth, stray curls tickling his temple while his tongue dances with Mark’s own. While Dan happily assaults Mark’s senses with all he is, Mark’s free hand comes up to fist itself in Dan’s wild hair. Gripping tightly, Dan’s mouth comes slack against Mark’s own for a moment, his hands falling to Mark’s hips, as a primal grunt falls from his lips.

“You two are like a work of art,” Arin murmurs from beside him. Dan pulls away slightly, his lips forming a grin, his forehead coming to rest against Mark’s own. His laughter washes over Mark like a warm blanket, his cheeks pink with embarrassment at the compliment.

“You’re an idiot, Arin,” Dan mumbles through the slight tremors that shake his shoulders. It’s spoken in such an affectionate, quiet tone that Mark feels out of place for a moment. That is, until Arin tones down the grin written across his face and replaces it with a look of want as he eyes up Mark.

“You’re both so gorgeous,” he breathes, grasping Mark’s hand that isn’t holding Dan impossibly close. Mark hums in reply, pulling away from Dan just to get closer to Arin.

“Why else would you keep us around?” Mark pokes, chest tight with the feeling of being so loved and of loving so much.

Arin exhales with small shakes of his chest, smile bright as he cups the back of Mark’s neck, hand like a warm blanket in winter – promising security and comfort. When Arin touches him, he understands why everyone loves him so much. He’s so protective of the people he loves that he risks himself to keep them safe. He’ll go to the ends of the Earth to see his lovers smile. Of any flaw he has, it’s his worst, because it means he tires himself out so easily. But…when he holds Mark close and expresses everything he cannot say in word through his touch, Mark knows why Suzy decided he was her soulmate so quickly. Mark knows why she, despite not being able to love so many people, stands by Arin comfortably and lets him love like his heart demands. It means that although he wears himself thin expressing his love, those who love him ensure he remains strong enough to continue. So the stacking effect of that is probably why Arin’s kiss turns Mark to putty near instantly.

Mark can’t tell whose hands belong to which of his lovers while Arin’s mouth distracts him so well. He feels a hand resting at the small of his back, fingers dancing across his lower stomach and threatening to do so against his fly, a fist holding the fabric of his shirt by his waist captive, and long, strong fingers splayed against the nape of his neck.

He feels, rather than sees, Dan shuffle behind him on the bed. While Arin assaults Mark’s mouth, lips swollen and cherry red, Dan kneels between Arin’s calves, his thighs full of Mark. Dan’s hands snake around Mark’s waist, arms overlapping across the soft skin below his navel. Pulling the weight of Mark against his chest, Dan lets a hand fall to the fly of Mark’s jeans, a heavy weight against Mark’s own as he palms at the hardness forming there. Mark’s lips leave Arin’s and his head falls back onto Dan’s clavicle as he savours the feeling.  He is only given one moment, however, as he soon feels Arin’s hands snake under his shirt, fingers cool against his warm stomach. The contrast, along with the friction Dan is tormenting him with, sends a shiver through Mark’s body, his eyes closing as he focuses on the senses being assaulted, trying to commit this moment to memory.

Dan stops palming at Mark’s cock through the strain of his jeans to unbutton and tug the zipper of the taut fabric down. A shaky whine falls from Mark’s lips as he lifts his head, eyes gluing on to Arin’s clouded over gaze, rapid changing colours of the television behind him casting a halo of colours around Arin’s face. A sharp inhale sparks through Mark’s chest as he registers the intense want, adoration, and love across Arin’s face. As a knot threatens to find a home in his throat, Mark swallows against the lump and matches Arin’s pose. He worms his hands under Arin’s shirt, his fingers splaying against soft, plump skin covered in small dark hair below his navel. A rush of need courses through him, electrifying his skin, prodded by the feeling of Dan’s hand forcing his jeans off enough to snake behind the elastic of his boxer-briefs. His fingers stop to a halt, his body tensing up suddenly.

“Is this okay, Mark?” Dan asks, voice hand still as stone, just an inch from where Mark wants it, but Dan’s voice holds no torment or attempt to tease. It’s true concern, a question he needs a solid answer to, not just the whine that falls from Mark’s mouth. Tearing his gaze away from Arin’s, he looks behind him to Dan’s face, eyes wide as he waits for an answer.

“Yes,” Mark replies, bringing a hand from under Arin’s shirt to cup Dan’s jaw. He kisses him softly, ignoring the strain in his neck. “It’s more than okay,” he elaborates, bringing his hand back to Arin’s stomach as he shuffles in place, rocking his hips back against Dan’s own.

Dan nods hastily, eyes rolling back as he moans at the friction. He continues, fingers wrapping around Mark’s swelling cock. Mark’s hands lift up, pulling Arin’s shirt with him, over Arin’s head. Warm skin exposed and dark hair forcing his line of sight to the harsh outline of his arousal in his shorts, primal hunger surges in his veins and his hand comes to the fly of Arin’s pants in a desperate hope to get his hands on the thick length, Dan’s hand rhythmically stroking his cock slowly, soft as to not hurt without lubrication.

Arin swats at Mark’s hand, shooing his hand from Arin’s crotch. Mark looks up, startled, from Arin’s crotch to his face, confused and hurt masking his features.

“‘S okay,” Arin promises, voice soft, “wanna take care of you.” His hands come back to Mark’s stomach, fingers teasing the warm flesh, hands gripping the fabric in his fist, tugging the item over his head. He leans away from Mark to take in the sight before him. He whistles slowly before speaking.

“God, look at you,” Arin moans, looking up and down Mark’s body, “you’re so hot like this.”

And he’s not wrong. Mark’s hair is a mess, dishevelled from his shirt being torn from him. His lips are swollen from the barrage of kisses of words unspoken. Cheeks, flushed pink, frame eyes, full of want, dark lashes catching against the lenses of his glasses. His chest rises and falls with the rapid breaths he takes as Dan sits behind him, a halo of hair behind Mark’s own, one hand on his hip, rubbing at the flesh over bone, the other wrapped around his cock, moving up and down, tip a desperate red, beginning to leak pre-come.

“Quit just watchin’, you jerk,” Dan murmurs from behind Mark. He leans forward and rests his chin on Mark’s shoulder, eyes gluing on to his fist as he jacks Mark, Mark’s gaze unmoving from Arin’s hungry stare. Arin hums softly, a sly smile covering his mouth.

“Mm, nah,” he murmurs, “I think I’ll enjoy the show for a little bit.”  A rush of heat flies through Mark’s body, emanating from a place deep in his pelvis. He’s never felt so confident or attractive than he does with Dan sitting behind him, holding him close and jacking him slowly, thumbing pre-come from the tip of his cock, and Arin sitting in front of him, palming at his crotch with a heavy lidded gaze. Dan’s low whistle from next to his ear brings his attention away.

“I thought you had my favourite body, Big Cat,” he starts, voice slow and deep, “but you might have some competition.”

Scratch that. _Now_ is when Mark has never felt more attractive.

Arin chuckles under his breath as he pulls his cock from his boxers, stroking the length toward his stomach. “I’m okay with that, so long as we get to see this more often,” he mutters before biting his own lip, eyes glued to Mark’s face, cheeks flushed and forehead covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

Mark’s jaw drops, his face contorted in extreme pleasure, eyebrows furrowed, lips swollen, pupils blown wide, as he struggles to keep looking at Arin as Dan strokes his cock, twisting his wrist at towards the tip.

“Mmm, Dan,” Arin moans, eyes rolling back as he changes the angle of his stroke slightly, “you’re so good with your mouth,” and Mark’s eyes open fully in need to witness this, “show – show Mark how good you are,” he’s never been so rock hard in his _life_.

Dan presses a kiss to Mark’s shoulder where his chin has rested previously. “Sit on the edge of the bed,” Arin orders him. It’s an _order_ , and a shiver of anticipation runs through his spine as he nods. Dan moves behind him and tugs his shirt by the back of the collar, tearing it over his head, pulling his jeans off to match, cock instantly straining against his boxers, wet stain marking the tip of his length.

He lifts onto his knees and crawls to sit at the edge of the bed as directed, tugging his jeans and boxer-briefs off the rest of the way as he does. Arin rises to sit behind him, a thigh either side of Mark’s own, bare skin against rough fabric. Arin’s hands grab hold of Mark’s hips, heavy cock resting between the small of his back and Arin’s own stomach. 

“Get ready to have your soul sucked out of you through your dick,” Arin mutters, wide smile pressed to Mark’s shoulder where Dan’s was moments before. Dan holds Mark’s chin and lifts his face to his own, pressing his lips to Mark’s softly and less hastily than those before it before falling to his knees.

Dan uses his palms to push Mark’s knees apart enough to sit between them on his shins, cock heavy and begging for attention behind the cotton boxers. He kisses the inside of Mark’s knee before making his way up Mark’s thighs, nuzzling the soft, sparser hairs there. His left hand wraps around the hard length that juts out from his pelvis, a harsh whine falling from his lips. Dan ghosts his breath over the hard length, light from the television in his peripherals casting rainbows in halos over his face, hot moisture sending waves of bliss _already_ up his spine. Grasping Mark’s cock in his hand, firm grip at the base of his swollen length, he pumps him quickly for three strokes before bringing his lips to the head of Mark’s cock.

Oh my _God_ , he’s died and gone to heaven. Oral has always been a highpoint of Mark’s sex-life – limited experience he’s had, regardless – but the way Dan is sucking on the tip of his cock, it’s like he was born to do this, to sit between Mark’s legs, to please him like it’s his one duty in life. He sucks at the tip like it’s Mark’s dying wish, circles his tongue around the very end, dipping in slit to lap at pre-come forming as it’s pulled from him like an untapped faucet, he thinks.

“Dan looks so fucking beautiful with a cock in his mouth, don’t you think?” Arin breathes, adoration and love filling his voice like he’s talking about Dan singing or greatest accomplishment, and not the fact that he’s a demon swallowing Mark’s soul and pulling it from him via his cock.

Dan hollows his cheeks out as he swallows down to where his hand holds his cock in a confident grip. As he does so, Arin’s hand comes from Mark’s hip and threads through Dan’s hair from his temple to the back of his skull. Dan hums lovingly and leans into the touch while bobbing back and forth, his tongue flat along the underside of Mark’s cock, tip firm against the thick vein there. Rapid fire succession pressure pulses into the base of his pelvis at this, moans falling from his mouth that match Dan’s hums.

“Hold his hair back,” Arin instructs Mark. He nods in acknowledgement before lifting his hands and mirroring Arin’s own and taking over the one that had shown him how to. “Pull on it,” he further commands, “he loves that.”

The moment he does, it’s like fireworks behind his eyes, in the back of his skull, against the inside of his ribcage. Dan fucking _whines_ on Mark’s cock, and there’s a tease of the prospect of teeth – just enough to know they’re there – and Mark is moaning ridiculously loud, Arin’s cock pulses in the small of his back from the euphoric sound of it. It’s as though his orgasm was attempting a double whammy, and boy, is it succeeding.

He’s not noticed until the fireworks die down, but Dan is between his legs, bobbing back and forth on Mark’s cock, tears in the corners of his eyes, hair pushed back, and… he’s got a fist around his own cock, boxers tugged away, and is fucking into it like a piston.  

“No, ple _ase_ , I – I want to make you both come first,” Mark whimpers, and he doesn’t even realize he’s talking aloud until Arin is turning his head and kissing him so hard he feels the bruise come instantly.

Lips still connected, breath intermingling as Dan swirls his tongue around the head of Mark’s cock, Arin replies, “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” Mark feels his heart swell and bubbles of anxiety fight to take over, but the sight of Dan taking his mouth of Mark, string of saliva and pre-come stringing between his bottom lip and Mark’s cock, _God_ , how could he not at least _try_ to pay them back?

Cupping Dan’s face in his hands, Mark beckons him up. He pulls Dan impossibly close, lips connecting as he throws his arms around Dan’s neck to keep him even closer. Dan tastes like strawberry and… _Mark_. Getting to the matter at hand, he slides his right hand down Dan’s bare chest, fingers dancing along the warm skin and peppering of hairs, catching on his navel, dark hair becoming coarser and thicker the further his hand drops. His cock is gorgeous, and he’s never wanted to suck a dick before so badly in his life before looking at the artwork whatever deity out there bestowed Dan with.

“Holy fuck,” he breathes, eyes wide, mouth agape. He hears Dan’s light hearted laughter ring in his ears like a siren’s melody before he tears his gaze from Dan’s cock.

“That’s what they all say,” Dan speaks through a shit-eating grin reserved for the worst of his puns. He hears Arin scoff in disbelief behind him.

“Yeah, like, one person,” Arin laughs, hand rubbing at facial hair, face flushed, beaded sweat dusting his forehead, eyes clouded over with wanton lust, lips cherry red.

Mark stands and pushes Arin until he’s lying on his elbows.

“Shuffle back,” he orders Arin, and wide eyed with shock, he complies, nodding as he moves, twisting to lean against the headboard. Mark laughs anxiously as he follows Arin’s movements.

“You’re gonna have to go easy on me,” he begs, “I’m not Dan.”

Dan follows Mark’s actions and comes to kneel on the bed next to Arin, faces a foot apart as he watches Mark’s move, unpressured, but waiting.

“I don’t know how he’ll survive,” Dan jokes, pulling Arin’s chin towards him to press the most loving kiss he’s ever seen two people share to Arin’s kiss-swollen lips. It intimidates him, but he’s made his decision and wants to stick to it.

Mark leans close to Arin’s cock, breath ghosting over it like Dan did to him, and watches him for any sign that what he’s doing is having an effect on him at all. He continues kissing Dan, but keeps his hands by his side, fingers twitching like they yearn to move. Mark then runs a finger, followed by his pointed tongue, up the bulging vein along the underside of Arin’s cock as it lies against his stomach.

A hitch in Arin’s breath comes quickly, followed by a hand rushing into the longer part of Mark’s hair, fisting just behind the crown to hold his head. It isn’t a rigid hold and Mark can still move, but it tells him that _yes_ , that’s good.

He grasps Arin’s notably large length in his right hand after gracelessly spiting in it for some, _any_ , lubrication. Arin sounds grateful as a groan is pulled from his lungs, and Mark is thankful Arin is an apparently vocal lover (though, it isn’t a surprise, given how vocal he is about everything else). Mark prays he’ll stay on the role he’s on when he takes the tip of Arin’s cock in his mouth and ensures his foreskin is back before swirling his tongue around reddened tip. He laps at the pre-come, mouth and mind filling with _Arin, Arin, Arin_. He takes a risk and relaxes his throat as much as he can and swallows, swallows as much as can of Arin. He takes in Arin like he’s a dying man and Arin is his salvation.

Arin’s hands tightens into a well clamped fist in Mark’s hair like his entire cock being swallowed is unexpected… and it is. So, Mark choking on Arin’s cock…is expected. He pulls away, coughing and spluttering into his elbow, tears rolling down his glowing pink cheeks. Arin coos and Dan laughs sympathetically, but they’re both rock hard still, and Mark is determined.

“Too eager to please, dumby,” Dan speaks, brushing the back of his index finger across Mark’s cheek as he takes Arin’s cock back in his mouth. “You’ve gotta take it slow,” he instructs, “try small bobs and work your way up to swallowing cockzilla.” Mark tries so hard not to laugh with Arin’s cock in his mouth that he has to pull away and lap at the head for a moment. “Am I wrong?!” Dan rhetorically speaks at seeing Mark’s grin. He ignores the comment as best as he can and continues to attempt to pull Arin apart at the seams. Dan offers him tips, now; _“Focus on the underside,” “press a finger to his perineum,” “jerk what you can’t fit in your mouth.”_ It’s a confidence boost to have someone who knows Arin inside and out let him in on what works without him having to learn for himself. It means they can cut the middle man out, or in this case, shitty blow jobs, and skip right to the _holy fuck_ orgasms.

He’s got a hand on the part of Arin’s cock he can’t fit in his mouth without gagging, and the other holding his balls and padding at the space there.

“Mm, look at him, Dan,” Arin murmurs, and brings the hand in Mark’s hair to his cheek, cupping his jaw, thumb stroking his cheekbone, “so fuckin’ gorgeous with a dick in his mouth.” He brings his thumb down, over the apple of Mark’s cheek, and presses it alongside his own cock, sliding in an out of Mark’s mouth. Mark accommodates Arin’s thumb alongside his cock, the digit instantly enveloped in the wet heat of Mark’s mouth, hooked in next to his own cock, heavy and rough in comparison to the velvet of Mark’s tongue. “Fuck, Mark,” Arin moans, eyes rolling back as Mark swallows around the hot weight of Arin’s cock. “Look at you,” he murmurs adoringly, “so pretty like this, so fuckin’ hot.” A wave of pleasure courses through Mark’s body, cheeks hot with the praise Arin can’t stop from dripping from his mouth. “Oh, God, fuck, look at him, Dan,” Arin instructs, free hand coming to thread through Mark’s hair again. Mark, previously looking up to Arin through the curtain of dark lashes framing his eyes, closes them, letting his other senses take over his brain.

Mark slides his right hand, his left wrapped around Arin’s cock, to his own, throbbing and leaking between his legs. With the touch of his own hand against his cock, a whimper comes from deep in his throat, instantly causing Arin’s fist to clench and pull on his hair. In turn, Mark’s eyes roll back hard, a loud, deep moan reverberating through his mouth, Arin’s cock twitching in his mouth. Arin’s thumb falls from Mark’s mouth  

“Fuck, Mark, fuck,” Arin’s mouth runs, “I’m so close, baby, so close, fuck,” he warns, tugging on Mark’s hair, prompting him to pull away. Mark refuses. He hums in acknowledgement, but swallows Arin’s cock more, relaxing his throat, not as far as before, and brings his hand from Arin’s cock to pat his thigh, a silent _it’s okay_.

His right hand on his own cock, thumbing at the head on each upstroke, he swallows around Arin’s cock, humming a nondescript tune, and he hears it. Arin’s hand tightens, pulling on Mark’s hair to point of near pain, his face contorts into one of bliss as he chokes out a whine, his muscles seize up, and Arin’s coming down Mark’s throat, come hitting the back of his throat as Mark swallows all he can, milking Arin for all he’s worth. He begins to choke, and pulls back further, tip of Arin’s cock in the forefront of his mouth, and sucks strongly on that, last of Arin’s come pooling on the centre of his tongue.

Mark drops Arin’s cock from his mouth, small string of mixed saliva and come stringing between Arin’s softening cock and Mark’s flushed face framed with a mess of hair.

“Fuck,” Arin breathes, “come here.” Mark nods, crawling up into Arin’s lap as he sat before, grin wide, arms wrapped around Arin’s neck. He looks like a kid on Christmas, he’s so happy, although admittedly more dishevelled and looking like he just suck his first di- you know what? Scrap that metaphor. He looks over the moon with bliss and happiness.

Arin is overcome with adoration, looking at this kid, his heart on his sleeve for these two dudes who are head over heels for him too. He cups one hand on Mark’s jaw and kisses him over and over, conveying his joy and thankfulness and happiness, while the other snakes over to Dan’s cock, heavy and begging for attention against his stomach. Mark whines as he kisses Arin, one hand unwinding from Arin’s neck to search blindly for Dan’s. While Arin kisses Mark, slow and taunting, Mark begins to become desperate. He rocks towards Arin in search of friction of any kind, aching for release, for the touch of someone’s hand, mouth, _anything_.

He pulls away from Arin in search of Dan, eyes heavy lidded and pleading. Dan moans at the look on Mark’s face, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“God, Mark, you’re fucking _killing_ me here,” he groans, smile betraying his words. Mark smiles in faux apology as he tips Dan’s head forward by his chin. His eyes linger on Dan’s lips, swollen, red, bottom lip jutting out in a slight pout. He sighs as he leans in and steals Dan’s breath away, smile ruining the kiss as Dan immediately whines at the first taste, hands flying to Mark’s chest and pawing at the muscle.

“God, you taste like you, but also Arin,” he moans, breathy laugh interrupting the kiss more than Mark’s smile, “it’s fucking _awesome_.”

Mark laughter matches Dan’s own as he pulls away, shuffling across Arin’s knees to sit on Dan’s, hips pressed together, cocks close, Arin’s hand brushing knuckles across Mark’s cock as he strokes Dan’s own. He whimpers, the friction a blessing and a curse – it’s friction, and that’s great, that’s what he wanted, but it’s not _enough_.

Arin hears Mark’s silent plea as he rocks forward into the hold Arin has on Dan’s cock. He pulls away when he hears Arin shuffle beside him and follows Arin’s own line of sight.  Arin moves his hand to adjust his grip, bringing Mark’s cock into his hand along with Dan’s own, and isn’t that an image Mark wants burned into his retinas? Dan’s cock is thick and gorgeous, head exposed and red and begging for release like a dying man, Mark’s is more slender and longer, slightly darker by comparison, and his forehead catches on the scar where Dan’s once was – it’s slight, but it’s bliss. Arin’s hand is pale, but in comparison to the cocks within his grip, it’s tan and monochrome, scars across his knuckles from teenage jobs like lines directing his sight to their cocks, dripping with pre-come, rolling own their shafts like the first unfrozen river of spring.

 

He’s a drowning man in the desert. The touch is too much, and there’s so much stimuli – his mind is on fire with the feeling of Arin’s fist around his aching cock, his hips thrusting   unconsciously and rocking against Dan’s own. His vision is full of Dan fucking into Arin’s fist alongside him, head thrown back and mouth agape.

He distantly hears Arin murmur to him, “It’s okay, baby, you can come. You’re so beautiful like this, fuck.”

And it hits him like a firetruck on the goddamn freeway. He hunches over, hands catching himself on Dan’s chest, fingers curling in and nails biting crescent moons into Dan’s pale skin. His hips falter as they thrust once more, cock twitching in Arin’s grasp as the dam walls fall, come painting Mark’s chest and their cocks, Dan’s downy hairs below his navel catching enough that Mark would be intrigued to taste if he weren’t so enraptured by the euphoria in his veins. He’s soaring, it feels like he’s flying and falling at the same time, like he’s on the edge of a cliff and about to jump, like he’s never come harder in his life.

Which is true.

“Oh my god,” he whines, “oh my god, holy fuck, oh, _oh,_ fuck.” His breath is staggered and his limbs are heavy, but Arin cheers him on, milking him for all he’s worth, come dripping from the tip of his cock and lubricating his own and Dan’s cock. Arin doesn’t let up, and it’s so _good_ but he’s becoming over stimulated and he’s on the edge of pain and pleasure. His palms are still pressed to Dan’s chest, fingers since redacted from his skin, but sitting on the fence is killing him, and he’s curling his fingers through the final waves of bliss and overstimulation, nails raking down his chest.

“Fu-uck,” Dan cries, “A-ah, fuck,” and it’s all he can grit out before he comes, Jackson Pollock painting of come across his own and Mark’s chest, eyes shut tight and brows furrowed as the waves knock him back. Mark lets the crashing waves of bliss flow through Dan’s veins while he leans in, kissing his neck, sucking love spots into the skin just below the scruff of facial hair he adores so much. He nips at the soft skin there, sucking proof of property into his flesh while Dan’s arms wrap around his waist with contentment. Arin removes his hand from their softening cocks, standing to the side of the bed.

“I fucking adore you both, but there’s no way you’re sleeping covered in your own jizz,” Arin speaks, arms outstretched above his head. Mark pulls away from Dan, foreheads resting against each other as laughter rings through his chest.

“The washcloths are in the bathroom, second drawer,” he informs Arin, an arm outstretched in the general direction of the room. Mark sees Arin nod in his peripherals as he continues lazily kissing Dan, exhaustion catching up to him.

“Thank you,” Dan murmurs into Mark’s mouth, “for everything,” and Mark’s heart swells at the sincerity in Dan’s voice, his nose tingling at the adoration and affection and _love_ there. He nods, hoping it doesn’t convey how shaky he feels at such a statement.

He’s shaken from his mind’s rapid-fire pace when Arin returns. Without alerting Mark of his presence, Arin throws the damp cloth against the small of Mark’s back like it’s a tennis ball. It hits him with a hollow _squelch_. He startles, immediately whipping his arm around to grab the item of interest. He sighs in thanks, murmuring such to Arin as he cleans the mess off of Dan’s skin, damp cloth quickly cooling in the December air. Mark always leaves his window open just enough to let the air circulate, and it gives his room the perfect temperature for sleeping under two of his softest blankets and duvet. He suspects, with the added heat of his two lovers, he won’t be needing most of that.

Skin wiped clean of the evidence of their behaviour, Mark smiles gleefully, his heart soaring high above the clouds, his feet dancing over the edge of the highest cliff and air holding him steady.

“Y’know, we should do this more often,” Mark speaks flippantly, stretching to press the power button on the television remote. He means it, despite his casual tone – he wants to spend more time with Arin and Dan, despite the ridiculous amount of time he does already, but he also wants to marathon movies and lie in bed with them; the blowjob is just the icing on the cake.

Arin scoff in reply, “Yeah, I’m always up for getting my dick sucked,” his voice follows, light but dazed with exhaustion. Dan laughs, head lolling to the side and bumping against Arin’s. Mark smiles affectionately, and he’s so in love with these two dumbasses in front of him that his chest aches. He can see; however, the exhaustion across their faces, and so he instructs them to tug the covers away so they can keep warm and sleep comfortably. Mark crawls off of Dan’s thighs and sits by the edge of the bed, removing his glasses and placing them on the bedside table safely. Climbing under the covers, Arin’s hands immediately wrap around Dan’s torso and his body curls to fit into the contours of Dan’s own. Mark feels the movement, and his heart drop accordingly. He curls into himself, his mind beginning to realize; this is a mistake, you’re unwanted here, this isn’t rig-

Dan wraps his arms around Mark’s torso, pulls him in, buries his nose in the mess of cotton candy. He calms his movements before Mark is resting comfortably, head on his favourite pillow, Dan’s bicep, slender and strong, holding him safe under his neck, and Dan’s arm wrapped around the space just above his waist, long fingers tracing nonsensical patterns in his skin.

“’Love you so much, Mark,” he hears Dan murmur, near inaudible above the roaring silence – distant vehicles racing home to be with loved ones like he is now, birds rustling in their nest, feathers coming together to make one blanket of _home,_ Chica snoring and huffing in her sound sleep in her cage. It isn’t the first time he’s heard Dan say it, but something about it is more special than the last ones. Maybe it’s the way Arin lifts his arm from around Dan and stretches it to lay on Mark’s hip like a confirmation that he agrees, maybe it’s the fact that it’s spoken in the early hours of the morning that belong to lovers like them, maybe it’s the sincerity in Dan’s voice; the unfiltered purity of it, exhaustion laden and slightly slurred.

He doesn’t dwell on it for long; sleep is calling him, and although having both of his lovers wrapped around him is among the best thing he’s felt in a long time, it’s also very comforting. It feels like safety, comfort…. It feels like home to be wrapped in Arin and Dan like this.

 

It’s warmer in Mark’s room than he remembers it being. A lot brighter, too. The noises are different – he hears distant children squealing in laughter, birds chirping with glee, Chica playing with a squeaking chew-toy, his television playing an unknown documentary, and Danny’s soft humming of a familiar tune.  His eyes slowly open, and he’s either slept restlessly, or woken enough to rearrange during the night. He prays it wasn’t the former. When Mark opens his eyes, he’s met with a face full of Danny’s chest, his arm slung over the valley of his stomach, fingers barely scraping the covers on the other side. He sees Arin, too, snuggled into Dan, near a mirror image of Mark himself, though his hand taps away at the screen of his phone. He clears his voice and stretches his fingers and toes, latter knocking against Dan’s cold ones in the process.

“You could have woken me up, jerks,” he mutters, voice deep and scratchy with the blanket of sleep. He looks up through his lashes at Danny, who is smiling adoringly down at Mark. Dan lifts his hand that’s wrapped around Mark and holds the base of his skull, thumb rubbing at the hair there.

“’M sorry,” Dan starts, smile soft and denying of his apology. “You just looked so peaceful,” he explains, “you work yourself too hard.”

Mark thinks he could get used to waking up like this, wrapped in the arms of the ones he loves and who love him.

“Almost as hard as you last night,” Arin chimes in, voice unwavering and full of a seriousness that leaves Mark grinning into Dan’s chest with embarrassment.

Dick jokes included, he thinks.

And, yeah, last night was amazing. It was mind blowing. But this, Mark’s head pillowed on Dan’s chest, Dan’s arms holding him close, Arin looking at him like he hung the moon… This is what he wanted so sorely. This is the intimacy he was craving so much; a closeness that held meaning, intimacy that breathed warmth, safety, serenity, support, home. With the sun dancing through the windows and cool winter Californian air dancing off their skin, Mark can’t recall a time he’s ever been so content.

**Author's Note:**

> *Don't actually contact me via satanssugarbaby@sin.com
> 
> Winner, winner, Sinner dinner.


End file.
